Shooting the Apple
by Maduk
Summary: An alternate ending to book one after Katniss shoots the apple from the hog's mouth. It may seem needlessly violent, but I have written all the chapters, and it is only this graphic at the beginning. Feedback appreciated, many thanks, Maduk (first story)
1. Chapter 1

The bow feels icy cold in my grip. I begin pulling back the metal string, my eyes focusing on the target. I pull harder and harder, forcing the bow until I fear it will snap. I can feel a dull vibration along my arms: the raw energy I have harnessed desperate to escape. I take aim, an instinct I have perfected over years of hunting. The tip of the arrow does not even quiver; I release my fingers. Crack. The target's head is split open and fragments are scattered chaotically over the floor. I eagerly look up at the Gamemakers. They do not return my gaze, transfixed not on the lethal skills which I possess, but on a hog. I am disgusted. They are about 30 metres away on an elevated platform; I can see four Avoxs who begin slicing up the hog into large slabs. Fiery hot tears well around my eyes. I cannot suppress my anger any longer.

"Katniss Everdeen, you are free to go."

One of the Gamemakers booms from across the room. He didn't even look at me as he speaks. My body is violently shaking now. Behind me, an arsenal of weapons decorates the wall. I snatch an entire bag of bolts, and hang it over my shoulder. I glance up the Gamemakers, who recline lazily like cows, feasting not on a field of grass, but on a field of meats. They are certainly as large as cows, fats spewing helplessly from their chins. I barely suppress a feverish laughter. None of them are watching me. A demonic grin sprawls across my face as I realise what I have to do. I pluck a bolt from the bag. The tip of the arrow is very different to the bolts I use at home. It is a brutal thing, fashioned from steel, in an odd cross shape. The tip is as fine as a needle but I can tell that it is also very strong. Barbs sprout from the base. I rest the bolt tenderly in the bow, and focus on taking a shot. My target: the fat cows ready for slaughter. I can't help my arms shuddering and I fear that I will miss. Relax, just let your instincts guide you. The bolt stops quivering. I breathe in, my fingers begin to slide.

Blood erupts like a fountain, the gamemaker collapses, and his body wriggles like an insect. I laugh in glee. The arrow is lodged straight through his chest. Screaming pierces through my ear drums and ricochets inside my head. The Gamemakers have leapt up scrabbling towards the door; the Avoxs are shoved aside. Thud, more screaming, my second bolt digs right into another. The Gamemaker squeals and trips, staggers and falls, dropping off the platform. The body now doesn't move.

For the first time in the Capitol I feel in control, a euphoria alien to me possesses my body. I can feel my own heart pounding in my chest and I greedily gasp up air. I feel dissociated from reality, this is surreal, what have I done? Yet I cannot comprehend what I have done, I feel like I am living through a dream, powerless to control my actions.

The screaming has stopped and I look up at the platform. It is completely empty, rusty coloured smears corrupts the furniture and stains the wall behind it. Thick oily droplets of blood trickle from the platform onto the floor. The second body is now a morbid white, I can't see the first. I hear a distant shouting echo through the door nearest me but it is impossible to understand what is being said. I reconsider the arsenal besides me. Unlike the weapons in training, these are all designed to kill. I recognise a sheathed Katana like the one I used yesterday. As I draw it, I see how much more lethal it is than the one from training. The handle fits naturally in my hands.


	2. Chapter 2

"Get down! GET DOWN. Get on the Ground NOW!"

The voice is panicky and high pitched and breaks halfway through the sentence. A peacekeeper is crouched behind me holding a gun. I look into his face but can only see my own reflection in his visor.

"I WILL SHOOT! Get down NOW!"

My heart dances in my chest, pounding against me like it is trying to escape. Electricity spreads along my body, I shiver, the hair on my arm rises, like that of a hostile cat.

"On the count of three I will shoot you, DROP YOUR WEAPON. ONE…"

An eerie silence, my mind is empty. I hear some footsteps outside the door, gradually getting louder.

"TWO…"

I cannot move, frozen like a cornered mouse. The Peacemaker is getting increasingly scared, I know that he cannot be much older than I am and probably has never used his gun before. He doesn't want to kill me, but I know that he must.

"THREE."

I squeeze my eyes shut until a lone tear rolls helplessly down my cheek. Time begins to slow as my mind torments me. Icy fear seeps through my flesh into my bones, a fear so potent, filling me with terror. The anticipation: a wait for the excruciating agony. My mind renders images of horror, my body savaged by bullets, a mutilated corpse discarded on the ground... Crack! The silence breaks. Yet, I feel no pain. Have I been hit? My eyes flicker open, before me is the Avox. The Avox who I recognised from the forest; she is holding a wooden tray. I look down at my feet and see the guard, slumped unconscious still grasping his gun. When I look back up, she has vanished.

I rush out through a door into a corridor. Like the training room, it is dominated by a monotonous metallic grey. A promise of sunlight shines from the end of the corridor. I start running, my feet making an agonisingly loud clang as I hit the steel floor. The light ahead is blocked as a hulk like silhouette looms in front of me. I don't stop running. My arms work like clockwork, a brief flash reflects from the blade as I draw my Katana. The guard before me tries to flee but I'm already across his neck, slipping painlessly through, and leaving him with no more than a stump. I catch a glimpse of him as I run by, his decapitated head concealed by the visor. No expression visible and I struggle to feel remorse. I pick up velocity, and the light is growing brighter. Escape is tantalisingly close. A warm fluid dribbles into my palm; a quick glance reveals that my hand is painted with blood, as is my Katana. I burst through the exit, and bright light floods through my eyes. The sunlight hurts; tears well as I blink. I don't know if it is harsh light, or the build-up of emotions finally overcoming me.


	3. Chapter 3

Where am I? It is a street but like no street in District 12. Mighty metallic buildings dominate the sky, leaving a gash of electric blue. The blocks press in on me, towering over me, like I am stuck in a deep canyon. Claustrophobia, I am breathing much too fast too shallow, wheezing, the rhythm of a dying animal in a trap. I look down. People are bustling around and laughing, children playing and shrieking in delight. I'm overwhelmed by a chaotic multitude of senses. A sickly synthetic scent of overripe fruits mixed with a pungent smell of rubber burns my nose. The noise is a painful contrast to the tranquility of District 12 and to the eerie calm of the testing facility. I sway slightly and swallow down a rising in my stomach. My throat burns and I taste putrid bile. I stumble against a metallic wall - must keep myself stationary, regain control of my body. Escape from this metallic valley. Shouts indicate that I need to leave. I run through the street and throw down my Katana. A lone Peacemaker is chasing me; and holds something up to his mouth. The density of the crowd thickens as I advance deeper into the Capitol. I don't push through, I embrace the crowd, let it slowly swallow me up completely until all I see is a neon.

One am. The Capitol is searching for me but they will never find me. I am in the old sewage network, under the road. Street lamp light seeps through the grills above me and stretches across my arms. My skin is freckled in blood, my crimson palm a reminder of the sins which I have committed. The ground beneath me is earthy and moist, I don't dwell on this. Instead I use this time to rest.

A clicking sound awakes me it is early morning. The air is crisp and I can see clearly where I have been sleeping: disgusting. I wriggle hastily out of the grate knowing that the streets will be empty. A solitary Avox drags a metallic rubbish container across the street. He is struggling with it, desperately tugging as it crawls across the road. He look emaciated, skin plastered to his bone, black greasy hair hangs limply across his skull. He sees me and barely reacts, but I notice that his eyes flicker briefly in surprise. Undoubtedly the entire capitol is on the lookout for me. I leave him and walk around the desolate streets. I have no plan but this doesn't worry me. Until now, all of my actions have been a result of instincts: the animal within me. Sometimes I scare myself. Yesterday, I felt no qualms of guilt as I slaughtered defenseless Gamemakers; on the contrary, I was lost in ecstasy. I could have continued slicing until my arms ached and my face dripped with Capitol blood. That was my first taste of a new kind malicious pleasure and I craved more. I shudder.

In my heart I know that I feel ashamed at what I have done, yet, deeper down, lurking in my mind, I feel a wicked sense of pride. Does anyone deserve a brutal death? I struggle to regret my actions of yesterday but I am trying. I am really trying but I cannot. Am I still possessed by the animal Katniss? Am I still the Katniss who will paint the Capitol scarlet in the blood of its civilians, the same Katniss who will be driven purely by her instinctive lust for murder? I don't know.

I freeze. Across the other side of the road is a man. He carries a short stubby pistol. He is lanky man and wears the gold and black uniform of senior Peacemaker. I can only see the side of his face. He has not seen me, I am quite sure that he has not seen me. Keep still, my hunting experience, prey can sense movement.


	4. Chapter 4

I lurk away, snaking into shadows. I will have to wait for him to move as I do not want to return the way I came, back towards the testing facility. I cannot stealth around him; the road is too narrow, crushed in by skyscrapers. I will wait for him to move, then sneak past. He stands stationary, swaying slightly in the breeze like a tree. He glances occasionally at his wrist. I am panicking, the sunlight is definitely brightening and it may only be minutes until someone else comes by and sees me. The sky above is a pale purple colour, the shade of a ripening bruise. A mellow wind drifts lazily through the street. I watch as a brown paper bag bounces along, spiraling aimlessly until I cannot see it. The Peacemaker shifts impatiently on his feet.

The purple is bleeding out of the sky leaving a bleached cloudy white. I am losing invaluable time. Sweat trickles down my neck; my body suit is sticky the nylon scratching my skin. It tickles and hurts at the same time. The shade I was I hiding in is long gone. I stand exposed, must get past…

"Mummy, mummy, what is that strange lady wearing? Mummy?"

The whining of an infant. He has the standard Capitol accent. A high pitched squeal, his jaws barely open when talking.

"Mummy? What is that lady wearing Mummy?"

It is indeed a little boy, his thick curly hair a daffodil yellow. I stare, incredulously into a pair of chocolate eyes. He is gazing innocently back. I am only metres away; he disregards – no – is too naive to realise the peril that he is in. A baby crawling into a lion's den.

The mother recognises me instantly, shameless fear, her eyes widening in distress. The Peacemaker turns to see the child, jolting as his eyes lock with mine. The pistol he grips is in his hand, a heartbeat later, is aimed directly at my chest.

"Mummy, Mum?"

The little boy's voice wavers. He senses that something is wrong but is not moving back. My bow is aimed upon the Peacekeeper's exposed head. He now looks at me, his face revealed. He shows no sign of fear only a determined grimace, a promise that if I shoot, he will take me down with him.

"Katniss Everdeen"

His voice catches me off guard. It is calming and gentle. Gales voice when he addresses dying animals, almost pitiful.

"Do you want to die today?"

His voice a steady calming tone. _Do you want to die today? _No. The question is easy. Of course not. But what I want won't change my fate, not after my sins. If they capture me... I cannot imagine what they would do to me. To my family.

"No, I don't" My voice wavers and I know I must sound weak.

"You want to live." His voice is liquid smooth. "But you don't know how to escape from this nightmare, you think that if you give yourself up you will die? That we will torture you?" A pause as he sighs. "Katniss Everdeen, you are deluded. If you give yourself up – "

_You will kill me and my entire family_

" – We will spare you. You will become an Avox. President Snow is a merciful ruler".

He speaks so certainly, an infallible voice which is so believable. Just give myself up. Makes a lot more sense when he says it. Spare you, become an Avox: A lot better than a gruesome Death. Death. The question do you want to die today? It anchors me to reality, NO. I don't want to die.

"Do you promise" I am speaking but I don't recall composing this sentence. My voice reminds me of Prim, a little girl. Perhaps that is what everyone sees me as, a mere stain upon the Capitol about to be wiped away. But that's not going to happen anymore, his words echoing through my mind _'we will spare you'_.

"I promise"

Relief floods over me.

"Katniss, lower you weapon."

His promise loops in my mind as I drop my bow. _We will spare you. You will become an Avox. President Snow is a merciful ruler. I promise. _I hear a gentle patter as my bow bounces on the street. President Snow is a merciful ruler... The last part of his promise shatters my illusion as I realise he is lying. What have I done? But it is too late.

**Note: Sorry this chapter is so late but I have just returned from 2 week holiday.**


	5. Chapter 5

The first bullet smashes into my shoulder. It is like being punched. I am launched backwards and spin slightly as I manage to regain control, staggering across the road. I feel a heat alien to me, spreading through my veins. My shoulder burns, the bullet a yellow hot poker pushing slowly through me. The second bullet, it strikes my gut below the ribcage, narrowly missing my lung. The rhythm of pain: every few seconds a fresh wave of agony cuts through me. The third bullet, I'm thrown backwards but manage to stay on my feet swaying like I'm drunk. I lurch to my left trying to flee but can barely hold myself upright. Fist sized beads of blood splash onto the floor.

Amongst the shots I can hear the wail of terror coming from the little boy. I don't even mind, his misery making mine bearable. Perhaps when I wake up I will sort out my messed up head. The intensity of the heat is unbearable and I begin to feel dizzy. The daggers of pain are so frequent that they fade into numbness. By the time the fourth bullet hits me I barely awake, clinging tenaciously to consciousness. The kinetic energy from the bullet knocks me down and I don't try to stand up, just listen to the boys screams of panic; the occasional interlude of gunfire. Six shots.

The sky is a bleak white. The colour of heaven, I suppose. But that is not where I will head, is it? A bird is flying across the sky but I see it as a blur. I can no longer feel my body. Only the slightest tingle along my legs signifying that I am living. My breaths are wheezing and desperate, I greedily suck up air; each breath could be my last. I hear a distant shouting but it fades to silence.

I open my eyes and am in a meadow. I wade through the buttery yellow grass. It's soft against my skin. Clouds dance in the turquoise sky and emerald green trees blossom out of the earth, their branches drifting out into the sky. Everything swirls slightly, the clouds, the trees, the animals. Colours bleed into each other and I laugh as a butterfly kisses my cheek. It tickles in a good way. A girl skips up towards me. With each leap she is suspended in the air gliding back down to earth before jumping effortlessly again. She is like a bird and this makes me laugh, again. Her lips are little red fluffy caterpillars; they wriggle around her mouth as she talks. I answer her quite slowly but don't really know what she said, or what I said, laugh again, transfixed by her marmalade eyes.

"Wake up Katniss"

The caterpillars wink at me knowingly.

"Wake up Katniss"

I just wish that the girl with marmalade eyes would shut up. I spin away, an insane flash of colours mix together until they become an impossible white. I bound across the tips of the grass, away from the annoying girl. The flowers tickle my feet and I giggle helplessly again. I scale a large boulder which emerges suddenly from nowhere. I am on top of the world. Brilliant orange eyes, it's that girl again. She is inches from my face, her candyfloss hair blocking out the magical skies.

"Katniss, you are safe now, with us"

I blink tears out my eyes. With each blink the intensity of the colours fade, her lips now a soft pink. I feel pain and I try and wriggle but I'm tied to a bench. I strain my neck making the mistake of glancing down at my body: a mess. When a tree collapses in a forest it will quickly be broken down by a mass of insects. My body reminds me of a semi decomposed log, torn up by termites and moulds, in a fragile condition. Recollection, the gunfight, bullet after bullet until I was as good as dead. The meadow... Tripping. So how am I alive? Avoxs, they have saved my life twice know, I am indebted to them. I shake. Not in fear or pain but in anger as I think of what the Capitol have done to me.

"Katniss you were shot. We are the Avox squatter settlement and are providing refuge. This is the Avox operating theatre." I hear laughter as she says this. "Respond if you wish to live."

I think of the Capitol, what they have done to me; how they deceived me, lied to me, what they do, what they do to the Avoxs, to the Districts, to my family. I look done at my discarded torso and finally understand my destiny what _I_ must do: Kill President Snow. I grin as horrific fantasy scenarios develop in my mind, my craving for blood is shameless.

"Save me" I gasp.


	6. Chapter 6

'The Avox settlement'. Settlement is a very generous word, but it is the one which Natascha, the woman with orange eyes, calls it. She is the only person who has a tongue, so is the only person I can talk to. The 'settlement' was created when a group of enterprising Avox begun digging out the earth beneath the sewer system. Secretly, over the course of 3 years, they had built a small niche under the sewers: the settlement I am in today. It is very small, the ceiling is low so I can't even stand in it. Natascha had been vital for the Avox's escape. She had been a leading medic in District 4, so skilled in surgery that she had been promoted and left her family to become a bio-engineer in the Capitol, responsible for creating mutts and developing new drugs. Her life was ruined when she had been caught stealing amphetamines and became an Avox. Fortunately, she joined the outfit of Avox escapees and, using her surgery skills, could remove their tracking implants so they could escape without being tracked down. I asked Natascha about her tongue and she claims that she surgically reattached a new one. When I asked where she obtained it. she laughed but didn't reply. Maybe it's best I don't know.

It is dark down here but a small fire is kept alive on a diet of old garbage; it gives us a little light, but pollutes the air with a vile smelling smoke. Food is scarce, but I get to eat at least one decent meal a day, usually grilled rat or a stew composed of moss and algae. The Avox need to salvage food, clothing, fuel and medical supplies so I only see them for a few hours a day. I'm not allowed to salvage as I'm 'too conspicuous' so I wait by the fire for them to return.

I hate it when they leave me. It is then when I'm most alone that I'm at the mercy of my imagination, when images of terror cling tenaciously in my head. Nothing I can do will expel them. The nightmare which haunts me the most involves Prim. I visualise her, at home, by the fire, Buttercup on her lap, purring gently. She is sewing together what will be a beautiful dress. Crack, the door is kicked in, and Peacemakers storm through…

Today will be different - Natascha has agreed to keep me company so I'll be distracted

"The Hunger Games begin today." Natascha says, breaking the lull in our small talk.

"What! You didn't think to tell me earlier?" My mind races, have I really been down here for so long?

"Sorry, I didn't think you would want to listen to it, I don't." She is referring to our radio. We use it often as we have a meagre collection of batteries.

"Why?" I ask.

"It's always the same." She says dismissively. "Just one long montage of sadistic entertainment."

I nod hesitantly. "Natascha, if I'm not in the games, who is?" I ask the question, but as I say it, I realise I already know the answer. No response from Natascha, a hot lump forms at the back of my throat and a choke slightly, my eyes watery. No, I must be wrong, I must be wrong, I must be wrong. I ask again, desperately, "Natascha."

"Katniss… I'm sorry..." Pressure builds in my chest until I feel like it will explode. Time stretches out, and although I know what she will say, I cling to ignorance, dreading the name...

"It is Prim."

The word Prim. It hurts more than being shot. Six times. My mind rips me apart. First I feel fury. Raw rage. This hurts the least, just sets my mind on fire. Then I feel the sadness. The pain in my chest is excruciating, a pain like that of a bruise or a deep gash; It hurts to breath and the thoughts in my mind are so wild that I don't even try to comprehend them. I just let myself freeze up for a while, shock almost blissful compared to what I feel next...


End file.
